Godiva: A Repunzel Parody
by EnchantedBlood
Summary: Welcome to the kingdom of King Alfred,somewhere east of the Atlantic. You are in for quite a trip. Be prepared to meet some memorable characters, one of which be Willy Wonka himself,and I know you'll have an...entertaining ride...
1. Beginnings of a Tale

Godiva (Final Draft)

This, I must forewarn you, is not your typical "Once Upon a Time" fairy tale, granted though, that it _did_ happen once, and time was fairly involved as this is a rather long-winded parable. But "upon" simply does not play a role here, though one _could _say it happened _upon_ a midnight clear and all such nonsense, but _that _my dear friends would be described as _archaic_, not to mention trite. So we shall forego all these "Once upon" happenings and get down to the base of this lovely allegorical yarn.

Claudia and Rinald, a truly happy couple, a match made in heaven, yin and yang, like peanut butter with a side of jelly, butter and toast, string and---okay, I will try to refrain from using anymore face-smacking clichés. At any rate, they were husband and wife, though their role in this story is fairly brief, it is by far, the most significant. You see, Claudia had a slightly neurotic fixation on well, chocolate, and it wasn't exactly helping things that her husband was less than sympathetic with her dilemma, himself being particularly self-involved with his own knick knacks and such, not to mention his rather close-fisted tendencies towards money.

Claudia, needless to say, did not receive much chocolate as the cacao bean was rather rare north of South America, and it was a quite painstaking, not to mention extensive process of getting a hold of the bittersweet bean, let alone finding a local chocolate dealer with enough stock to satisfy her needs.

So it is to no wonder that when the renowned chocolateer Willy Wonka moved in to the villa next door that there was destined to be some problems…

Things had gone pretty well for the first few months of Willy Wonka's rural transition. After finally leaving the big city, in search of a little solace, he happened upon a small village, (of which the name shall not be disclosed due to the chocolateer's devout wish for personal privacy, not to mention the avoidance of assailing fans). It was quiet and quaint, small in terms of a village, more a scattering of slipshod shacks, a couple of sturdy wood lodgings with a dumpy little market place, and _lots_ of farmland. Not much by way of luxury, but decent enough.

It was exactly what he'd been looking for. He'd hired an architect and stone mason within the week, less than four months later his equipment was shipped in, a month after that, an interior designer. Only one week later and he'd moved in. Not bad for a half a year's work, not bad at all.

He'd only just finished training the new batch of oompa loompas when his first customer arrived, in the form of a plump middle-aged man hopping the carefully constructed fence. The man was making a beeline for his setting chocolate molds of "Crawly-Creepies™"…

It was about an hour and a half prior to the present. And Claudia was tending to the womanly tasks around the household. Well, she was _supposed_ to be at any rate, but what's a woman to do when there are so many distractions beckoning? Such as smelling the flowers in the gardens for one, or snooping on the neighbors? Which was _exactly_ what she was doing, both of them at once in fact.

Oh, she had started going about her so-called "duties" and such, but they were so incredibly_ tedious_ and_ boring_. She'd much rather go out and do something rather than waste away the day in front of the fire, cooking or milking the bloody cows or sweeping the cursed floors or…well you get the idea.

So she'd just so happened to slip away into the gardens for a small stroll. Oh, they were terribly_ lovely_ this time of year. All blossoming and bright, filling the air with rich aromas of…chocolate? Since when did flowers come in chocolate scents? _High-quality_ chocolate scents no less? Claudia poked her nose into the air and let out a series of probing sniffs, much like that of a dog detecting a bone really.

'Hmm…that aroma! It seemed to be coming from…THERE! Wait, no, that's not it…It's coming from over there!' She swiveled her head to the left and began sniffing again. 'Ah…I smell it now. It's getting stronger!' She continued tracking the path of the chocolaty fragrance, winding her way in and out of the bushes, drawing ever nearer to the sweet, endearing source. 'It should be just around those bushes now, only a few more steps and…' She _leaped_ around the corner ready to embrace whatever truly wonderful sight must lay there! She was greeted rather forcefully (meaning she'd run head-on into it) by… a stone wall. Yes, a wall, made of, stone. And gracefully, she went down like a leaden log.

What was Claudia feeling right about this moment? Confusion? Most definitely. Disappointment? Quite so. Something rather akin to anger? Oh yes, but mostly pain. She had hit that wall _hard_.

After a moment of not-so-quiet recovery (there was a lot of cursing involved on Claudia's part), she dusted off her clothes and slowly stood. She _knew_ she'd smelled chocolate; she'd just been a bit overzealous in her search, that's all. Claudia sniffed at the air again. Yes, that was definitely chocolate she'd detected, and it was coming, from beyond the wall…

Hoisting herself into a nearby tree she grabbed the edge of the wall and leaned over. Oh, such a sight she'd never seen. It was so brilliant, so enchanting, so…utterly delicious. There was chocolate as far as the eye could see. Vats of chocolate here, gushing rivers of richness there, setting molds in the far corner…Oh it was a glorious spectacle! Far more beautiful, far more awe-inspiring than anything she'd ever witnessed. Oh, what magnificence...And it was in that instant, that she knew she must have that chocolate, lest she should die a sick and miserable woman of depravity.

It wasn't but 20 minutes later that she found her husband in his study, carefully constructing a miniaturized ship inside a little clear bottle made of the finest glass money could offer.

"Rinald," she spoke loudly, causing her husband to startle and his hand to jerk, knocking the beautiful little ship and bottle crashing into the floorboards with a distinct shatter.

Rinald twitched almost imperceptibly before gritting his teeth and saying in a carefully controlled tone, "Claudia, I have been working on that delicate piece of art for the past three months. Please, tell me that what you've interrupted me for is very important, bordering on the edge of extreme disaster, and not some trivial detail of your, I'm quite sure, fascinating day."

Claudia merely stared at him for a moment before dramatically throwing herself onto the sofa. She barely seemed to register Rinald's distress over his little bottle and ship thing. She gave him a stern glance before saying, "I'd appreciate you not using that tone with me Rinald, but alas, you have hit the nail on the head my dearest husband. I am indeed hovering on the precipice of near destruction. In fact, I fear I might be dying as we speak. Look how pale my hands are. Do you see my flushed cheeks? Are these not the signs of the fading? How terrible to be a freshly bloomed rose, wilting away as the sun pales…" she trailed off and looked over at Rinald.

Rinald, used to his wife's theatrical antics, looked impassively back at her. Claudia did her best to look as sickly and pitiful as possible. They sat there for a moment in silence, Claudia trying to convince her husband of her impending death, and Rinald thinking about the best way to dismiss his wife without offending her. Finally he gave in with a sigh, "What do you want Claudia?"

"Me? Want something? Dear Rinald, all I desire is your love and aid in preventing my tragically early death. That is all, Rinald…Truly…" she replied with a spectacular wave of her arms.

"Claudia…" Rinald started skeptically.

"Well, since you asked so kindly…all I need is a bit of chocolate."

"Claudia," Rinald interrupted. "I don't have any chocolate."

"Oh, that won't be a problem, not at all; I know _exactly_ were you can find some…" Claudia trailed off with wicked grin.

And it was with great reluctance that Rinald listened to his wife's seemingly tactless plan. "Slip over the fence. It won't be too hard Rinald. Just sneak in, and be quiet mind you. I'm not quite sure who lives there, but be careful at any rate. Just wind your way to the corner and grab a mold of chocolate. That's it. Just one measly mold. It won't be missed."

_And how precisely would you know that Claudia? Hmm, no answer? Ah, but of course, that's because you **don't, **know that is._ Rinald let his less than courteous thoughts dance about in the air, all of them unspoken.

"So there you have it, Rinald my beau. Simple as those little ship-majiggies you play with all the time." Claudia finished happily.

Rinald twitched again. "Yes, indeed, just about as easy as the painstaking, slow, and delicate process of creating my little ship-majiggies as you call them."

"Precisely!" Claudia exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "Now off with you then." And she promptly proceeded to hurry him out the door.


	2. Lets Make a Trade

Oh, he'd _known_ this had been a bad idea. He'd known it from the start when his wife had first approached him not even an hour earlier. But had he listened to his gut-wrenching screams of logic? Noooo, he'd listened to his wife's warped excuse for reason. He really had been asking for it. So was it really to anyone's surprise that two very short orange vaguely-humanish looking creatures snatched him by the ears? Well, maybe a little, but not about the "getting caught" bit.

As the two orange things successfully got hold of his head, another two tackled his legs, sending him tumbling down into a puddle of strategically placed chocolate. And that, my friends, is how Willy Wonka discovered our dear Rinald, sputtering and thrashing about in a slippery mess of chocolate syrup.

"What do we have here?" Willy Wonka began. "Do I spy a little thief-sie with my little eye? Ah, I thought not. You're much too large to be little now aren't you? But, a thief, perhaps you are yet. Let us see. Oh, lookie here! What's this?" He took his cane and poked at a metal tray on the ground that looked suspiciously like that of one of his chocolate "Creepie-Crawlie©" molds. "Oh…well this doesn't look too good for your case I must say. Not good at all…Well, good sir, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Rinald, by this time he'd quit moving, sat in silence for a moment staring up at the chocolate maker. "If you've got awhile, I think I can explain," he said dismally.

"Ah, I've nothing but time sir. Please do tell, for this is surely something I'll wish to hear, doubtless," Wonka replied.

Rinald took a deep breath, "Well, you see, it all started when…"

"…And now here I am, speaking with you," he finished.

"I see…" Willy Wonka reflected. He had just spent the past 13 hours and counting listening to, well, when you got down to it, pretty much Rinald's life story. From the day he first discovered the art of building tiny ships in equally small bottles, to his first meeting with Claudia, to their wedding, to Claudia's adamant chocolate needs and the events unfolding thus far.

He sat upon the ground Indian style next to the rather sticky Rinald, whose chocolate coating had dried in sugary gum globs.

"That is quite an interesting story you have there, most of which I can't relate to in the slightest, but still understand nevertheless. I give you my sincerest condolences regarding, erm, well, pretty much everything you've just told me." Willy Wonka told Rinald, who nodded in response. "But, I do hope you realize I can't very well let you get away with it. Attempting to steal the chocolate I mean. There must be some sort of price. Always a price. You can't just walk away with a pale promise of 'I swear I shan't do it again.'"

"I thought not." Rinald sighed wearily.

"So, what shall I take as payment?" the chocolate maker pondered aloud. "Perhaps one of your lovely peacocks? I've always wanted one you know." He glanced sidelong at Rinald.

"No!" the other man said quickly. "You don't want one of them…they're, they're…" he searched for a word. "Too…frothergny!"

Willy cocked an eyebrow, "Frothergny?"

"Yeah…err…frothergny…"Rinald stated awkwardly

"Right…" Wonka let that hang in the air for a moment. "So, what about one of your little ships in a bottle, I find it quite fascinating how---"

Rinald interrupted him with a vehement, "_Absolutely not."_

"Well alright then," Wonka said, slightly taken back.

"And besides, it _not _some frivolous _hobby_," he proclaimed. "It's a very delicate art form I'll have you know." Realizing the oddity of his sudden outburst, he cleared his throat a bit. "Err, sorry about that…"

Willy Wonka stared at him for a moment, as if gauging Rinald's state of mental security before moving on. "Um, well, yes, that's quite all right…What about a chicken? Chickens are perfectly common things. Surely you can spare one."

"But…I like my chickens. I have three of them Dora and Nora and---"

"Yes, yes, I know, Calisto," he finished irritably. "So, perhaps not then… What about some of your prize-winning pumpkins? Best in the county if I'm not mistaken…"

"Well, yes, but, they wouldn't exactly be prize-winning if I didn't have any left to win a prize with, now would they?" Rinald replied testily.

"Okay, then! What about one of your--"

"No," Rinald cut him off.

"But, you don't even know what I'm going to say?" Wonka exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes, but I know my answer all the same."

"Well, what exactly do you want me take as payment?" he said in exasperation. "Your first-born child!"

There was a beat of silence. "That might work…" Rinald began as his face lit up with possibility.

"Wait! WHAT? I was only kidding! I wasn't being serious!" he exclaimed in horror.

"No, no." Rinald insisted. "It's only just payment: my child, for your chocolate. Fair trade."

"But, no, wait just a second! I never agreed to--" he started to protest.

"So it's settled then! We'll meet again in seven months! My wife is already two months in! Farewell my dear friend. Although parting with my child will be such sweet sorrow, I will somehow manage. Good evening to you!" And with that, Rinald hopped the fence and headed back home, leaving a very bewildered Willy Wonka behind wondering just how all of this had managed to come about…


	3. To the Tower!

**Chapter 3**

"GODIVA HERSHEY ALMOND COCOA WONKA!" a voice bellowed from downstairs.

"Huh? Huh?" Godiva bolted up in bed, frazzled. "What?" the sleepy sixteen-year-old looked around blearily. "Dad? Huh?" She'd been having a perfectly wonderful dream, before her father's voice had torn them to shreds, jerking her back into reality. She heard a succession of loud footsteps storming towards her room.

"Godiva!" her father shouted. "How many times have I told you to keep away from the chocolate vats if you insist on letting that snarled rats nest that you call hair continue to grow? I have had thirty complaints of _hair_ being found in people's chocolate this morning alone! _Thirty!_ That is absolutely ridiculous! Not to mention disgusting! Who will want to eat Willy Wonka's famed chocolate products filled with the ever-appetizing strands of hair! NO ONE!"

"Calm down Dad…It's only a bit of hair. I swear it won't happen again. And besides, it not as if I _intentionally_ put it in there anyways," Godiva pouted.

Willy Wonka stared at his surrogate daughter for a moment. It had been a little over sixteen years since that fateful day her father had handed his daughter over to him. He'd known the man had been less enthusiastic over having a child than his wife, but this had been ridiculous! Claudia had been in hysterics, but eventually subdued by a rather large quantity of sedative chocolates.

And thus, he'd taken in his 'daughter', Godiva Hershey Almond Cocoa Wonka. It hadn't been long after he'd adopted the girl that her parents had left the village for good. But truth be told, he'd never regretted taking the girl in. He loved her with heart and soul, and wouldn't give her up for the world.

But sometimes…the girl was so darned frustrating! She had up and down refused to cut her hair since her sixth birthday when he'd first suggested it (her hair had been past her knees already!)

"That is _it_! So help me God if I get _one _more complaint," he hadn't finished his sentence before there was a light knock on Godiva's door. "Oh, God, what is it now?" he raised his hands in a pleading motion towards the ceiling.

He walked to the door and threw it open; there standing in the hall was Bertie, one of his more ambiguous oompa loompas.

"Yes, Bertie?" he asked with a sigh.

"Mr. Willy Wonka sir, there is a client waiting for you in the foyer, I believe she mentioned something about hair and chocolate sir. You might want to hurry. She seemed quite distressed."

"Oh, wonderful, absolutely _brilliant_," he muttered. Godiva innocently twiddled her thumbs on the bed, ever-so subtly whistling and looking about. He waved Bertie into the hall. "You," he said pointing at his daughter.

"Um…Yes, Daddy?" Godiva asked sweetly.

"To the tower with you!"

"WHAT!" Godiva squealed, jumping out of bed.

"I am going to lock you away in your little play tower in the woods until you allow me to have your hair cut, and that's final."

"_Never!_" she screeched.

"Well, I guess you'll be up there for quite awhile now won't you?" he stated simply.

"But—But--…_DAD_!" his daughter sputtered.

"Alright then, we leave tomorrow. I suggest you pack now. You won't have much time later. Good day, to you darling daughter," And with that he spun around, fairly floating out of the room.

Godiva stood there, mouth gaping, arms raised in indignation. She let out a frustrated scream before throwing herself on to the bed.

* * *

**Reviewers: First of all, to my lovely Kage-Motslaur-chan, likewise, I too blink. After such a long pause of silence you deign to speak! Well let me say…I am honored. And as for garotte dearest, your wittiness touches my very soul! Blindsandshutters well, you are truly a magnificent soul of which none can compare except perhaps the lovely Kage and Garotte –chans. And as for P.P.M. the only true reviewer, who neither had to be a)forced to review or b)coerced out of silence by shock, let me say, I am proud. As for anyone else who's for whatever reason read this and not reviewed, a gentle reminder…The devil holds a special place in his firey comforts for those who decline comment on marvelous masterpieces. But then again, perhaps you were awed into shock, no? **


	4. Of a Prince

**Chapter 4**

The second half of this story, (the part you may begin to recognize) starts in a kingdom not yet named. The government was a tangle of nobility, and would-be-kings; the land resembling more a game of marbles than anything, the villages scattered about here and there. In spite of all its muddled aspects, there was a king who ruled supreme; his name was Alfred.

Now, King Alfred had many children (six daughters and nine sons to be exact), only two of them being legitimate, Francine and Patrick. Now Princess Francine was a well-refined, urbane young woman, good at her embroidery, and adored by her fellow courtiers. Prince Patrick was a relatively intelligent, quite handsome young man, with hazel eyes, and wavy auburn hair. His favorite hobbies were playing croquet, fencing, and rescuing damsels in distress. But amidst all of these, his true passion was exploring. He'd travel the countryside far and wide, facing many a great peril to fulfill his lifetime journey of adventure. There was only a slight problem with this quest of his: **_he had absolutely no sense of direction_**, which was how he'd found himself in his current predicament….

It had started out innocently enough; just a small ride through the woods was all, really. How harmful could that be? His royal entourage had taken camp near the outlying of a small forest (well, it had _seemed_ small at the time.) Things turned out otherwise, needless to say.

He'd slipped away from camp shortly after their arrival. He did not need some bloody escort! He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself thank you very much. Or, at least that's what he'd been telling himself. It had become a little mantra, one which he'd constantly been chanting in his head for the past hour or so. _Perfectly capable, I know **exactly **where I am. I meant to take that left turn. I intended to pass that tree for the fourth time…_Unfortunately for him, he wasn't very convincing. And his rapidly growing dread was fueling his panic by the seconds. _Oh, God why? I am going to die in these cursed woods! All alone! Probably to be eaten by some rabid bear! Or worse! Perhaps I am forever doomed to wander this enchanted forest for all eternity! Oh, GOD! I'm too young to die!_

A loud decidedly masculine voice broke through his panicked musings. "Godiva, Godiva! Let down your hair!"

And then…an angelic voice pierced his darkened soul, like a beacon in the darkness of an eternal night. (Or so it seemed to him.)

He paused for a moment to listen, it seemed to be the sound of a woman, and it was coming from just beyond those trees! He carefully guided his snowy stallion Penny Feather towards the source.

"Oh, what a lovely voice! How terrible it is that it must be raised in such distress! I must save this young maiden!" he declared heroically. (How exactly he knew that she was indeed young or a maiden, is beyond me, but I tend to find it best not to question strategically placed plot devices.)

_Author's Note: Ah, dear readers…we speak again. Yes, we. I am very fluent in these things, so much that I have translated your thoughts into conversation. No, hush. There is no need to speak, for you have already spoken…Now to Tigress of the Underworld two things must be said firstly, your username is quite inventive and eloquent all in one, secondly, WHO IN THE WORLD ARE YOU? Ahahaha. I kid, I kid. Thank you for your splenderifical review, I'm glad a genius like yourself has recognized my own. Our brilliance shadows the world in its (for it is indeed a corporeal being) wonder…Now Kage, love, I only call you Motslaur in light of my deep personal attachment to you, it is a tone of affectionment, not belittlement. (Look at me sound all smurt and fancy.) And yet again has laziness succumb me and I have been forced to resort to more alternative methods of communication with you...(p.s. Recommend me some good HP fanfiction, and NO not your Anita Blake one.)_


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